Defection
by Kelenloth
Summary: Prince Legolas only wishes to pay his old friend a friendly visit, but not all the inhabitants of Minas Tirith look kindly upon him, and his simple plans quickly go awry. Post-RotK.
1. A Friendly Visit

A/N: This story conatins references to the story "Traitor" by Cassia and Soibhan, wich is part of the Mellon Chronicles: www.aragorn-legolas. Many of the references made in this story will make more sense if you have read that story first.

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Chapter One: A Friendly Visit

Legolas slipped quietly into the large city, praying he would go undetected by the gateway guards. He looked up, pulling the dark hood closer about his face, and smiled as they failed to find any reason to stop him. Good. Now all that he had to do was find his way through the giant maze of streets and he would be there. He stifled a sigh as he continued, not knowing even where to begin.

He hoped to see his friend again, after so long an absence to the Hall of Mirkwood; he would not see Aragorn as a ranger this time though, but as the king of Gondor. It was the first of many visits he knew he would pay, if in fact he left much at all. He laughed slightly, wondering how long he would stay this time, and how much trouble he could get his long-time friend into within that time period.

Aragorn did not actually know he was coming. He hoped to surprise the man this time, and had sent no messenger to foil his plans. As he pushed through the crowd he pondered what the best way to go about it was, to walk in unannounced before the king, or to simply find his own way in and find his old friend somewhere among his private rooms. The latter quickly proved the better idea, and Legolas, before even arriving on the second level, was already thinking of the fun he would have eluding the guards. A broad smile spread across his face as he continued down the streets.

At last! He pushed through the final gate to the top level; he could go through without problems with the guards. The final gate was the one right under Aragorn's palace. It was strange, he thought, to know that the ranger owned this whole city. He could not imagine the ranger knowing the insane street maps, even having been here for several months now.

He looked up, scanning the uppermost part of the city, spying what passageways he could and seeing where the guards were posted. He racked his memory to recall what he could of the floor plan from the last time he had been here, at Aragorn's coronation. It seemed that Aragorn's rooms were to the south of the main hall. Yes, he could see them now, as he walked around, closer to where he thought the private rooms were. It seemed, yes, there was a small courtyard, and he remembered he and the ranger having an impromptu archery contest there. Legolas laughed at the memory, recalling that Estel, not he, had been the one to shoot the captain of the guard in the helm, and that he himself had hit their target, the young tree by which he stood. He looked up to the palace above him. Perhaps he could sneak in there. If he remembered correctly, Aragorn's sleeping quarters were not far from there, which was most likely where he would be headed at this hour. r

The sun teased the horizon behind him as Legolas reached the far southwest corner of the city, hugging the mountainside; it was the part of the sixth level that was the closest to the seventh anywhere save for the main gate. His smooth hands played over the rough surface of the mountainside, contrasting sharply against the shining smooth stone of the city itself. He stayed wary of everyone else around him, waiting until he was practically alone before beginning his accent.

His strong fingers found hold in the many crevices and uneven surfaces of the white rock, and his skilled feet followed swiftly. Only after he was a good way up did he consider that it may not have been the safest thing to do, but by then it was far too late. Even as the sun was far past set his own glow and that of the rising moon and early stars were all he needed to keep his footing, and it did not take long for him to reach the top. By now, it was far too late to surprise his friend, but Legolas could wait until morning. As he came to the top of the wall, he looked around, spotting the small guard station not too far off, he slowed his movements to observe them. The two men stationed there were alert, but did not find a need to watch the mountainside, and Legolas safely finished his way up, slipping over the top of the wall he hid for a moment in its shadow.

"What was that?" He heard from the guards.

"What?" The other answered, standing to his feet, he looked around for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. Legolas concealed a smile as he crouched in the darkness, his cloak pulled about him and his hood hiding his light blond hair. He watched the two men sit back down into their familiar positions, quietly watching for a little while more.

At that moment Legolas heard footsteps behind him. But there was nothing behind him. They grew louder and the elf found their source only after it was too late. The stone of the wall beside him opened up to reveal a small concealed passageway that the soldiers used; the opening allowed the elf to fall down the passage accidently. And he fell right into the Second Captain's feet.

"What th-" Legolas heard the man say; grabbing his shoulder and hood, the man pulled Legolas upright and quickly revealed his face. Within a moment the two guards on duty were at the scene, along with the three other guards that followed the captain. All were ready to capture or kill whatever new threat came upon them.

Legolas smiled meekly up at them, a bit embarrassed by the whole turn of events, and wondering what Aragorn would say that he got caught. The men quickly pulled him completely upright, holding his arms behind him.

"What are you doing here?" The captain asked spotting the full quiver, bow, and pair of knives on his captive's back. Not waiting for a response, he noticed something that, to him, was more important. "Why... You're an elf!" He started, grabbing Legolas' pointed ear.

Legolas grimaced slightly as the man grabbed him roughly, attempting to nod at the question while the man still held him. He did not want trouble from the guards, and he hoped that the nature of their king would help him out of this one.

Instead, Legolas received a solid punch to his midsection.

"Treacherous scum." The captain said as Legolas curled in on himself after the punch. Legolas was shocked by the words, not knowing any of the residence of Minas Tirith to hate the elves, he wondered at this man, who so blatantly hated him for his race. "You two, return to your posts. We'll take this one down below. The King normally likes to see these things for himself, but I do not wish to wake him." He told the two that Legolas had evaded before. "Come." He turned next to his own men. "Bind his hands and follow me." The man turned quickly back down the passageway, he took a torch from the wall and led them down.

Legolas' hands were tied tightly behind him, as he tried to keep optimistic about the situation. Aragorn would have no end of teasing, true, but he doubted that he would come to any true harm at the hands of these guards. Although the reaction of the captain told him otherwise.

When they came to the end of the stairway, they walked quickly through a dark hallway, down to a series of old, obviously long unused passageways, that all the soldiers save the captain seemed unfamiliar with.

"In here." He led them down one last tunnel; he turned back to lock the wooden door behind them before he faced Legolas. "Now, elf...," he said, practically spitting the word. Legolas was held firmly between two of the other soldiers by his shoulders, the third holding the torch, the captain did the talking.

"Normally around here the king deals with the likes of you. But seeing the hour, and that I would hate to wake him just to see you, I believe there are other ways of going about this." He smiled in Legolas' face as the elf's brow knotted. The two men holding him only copied their officer's joy.

"Captain?" Legolas heard another voice. The small soldier that held the torch questioned what procedures the captain intended on taking.

"Yes, there are some old laws, still alright to use, I would say. Lord Denethor set them up, and I would say him a capable man." He informed the young soldier. For Legolas the name wrung perhaps even truer then to that of the soldiers, thinking back to the last time he saw Denethor. It was not a memory he relished. At all. A night filled with pain and shame, he never wished to see the man, or even hear his name, ever again.

Without warning, another solid punch slammed into Legolas' stomach, sending him to his knees as he gasped for breath, his shocked eyes locking onto the captain before him. The man laughed quietly at him.

"Who are you?" He began his interrogation. "A spy? An assassin? What?" He kicked Legolas roughly in the side.

"No." Legolas answered trying to keep calm. "I'm-"

"No?" The man cut him off. "Then what are you doing near my lord's house with these?" He drew his sword, resting it on Legolas' quiver strap. Within the next moment, his men had unstrapped it and taken it from him, as their captain went on. "It is our job to protect the king and punish those who oppose him." He said, half to the elf, half to his own troops.

"I don't, I-" Legolas tried to reason with the man, but was cut off again.

"You what?" The man crouched to be eye level with the elf before slapping him in the face.

"I'm his friend!" Legolas yelled, trying to get something out before he was cut off again.

"You expect me to believe that?" He laughed, raising an eyebrow. "No. I want the truth." He said, not caring if what he heard was the truth or not, he wove a deception to justify his actions before his men, creating a reason to do as he pleased with the elf. Standing, his foot made hard contact with Legolas' midsection, doubling the elf over; next he kicked Legolas in the ribs, sending him to the floor.

"What are elves but lying," -he slammed his foot into Legolas' side- "thieving," -his foot came down again- "scum!" He finished, landing a third hit; soon his 'interrogation' turned quickly to an outlet of anger. Legolas had never accepted this from any of the guards in Gondor, and the captain's words still shocked him. As the man's foot came down for a last hit, he lashed out at the two men holding him in place, rolling out of the way; he allowed the captain's foot to glide through the air unhindered. The force of his own kick almost sent him to the ground. "Why you!" He yelled.

Quickly, Legolas caught his foot; grabbing it, he made his case quickly before the man could harm him again. "I am Legolas Greenleaf, and I am Aragorn Elessar's friend." He said, in an attempt to convince if not the captain, at least the soldiers of his innocence. "I don't know what you've heard of elves but-" his sentence was cut off yet again as the captain grabbed a handful of his tunic and lifted him off the ground. He kept his face calm and slightly defiant as the captain held him inches from his own hard, angry face.

"What I've heard of you?" He turned around, slamming Legolas into the wall behind him. "I've heard how my father dealt with you. And how Lord Denethor dealt with you. If Lord Aragorn is half as good of a Gondorian man as they were then he would deal the same." His face was hard but strangely excited.

"Your father?" Legolas questioned quietly; he could feel the man's grip tighten on him, as his other hand came up in a fist, ready to knock him out.

"Yes. I barely met the man, but I've heard the stories." The captain began. "His name was Castamir."


	2. Gone Awry

Chapter Two: Gone Awry

The words hit Legolas like a stone. Castamir? He did not know the man had a son. And Aragorn seemed confident that his manner had changed after that night. That night. His mind went back to that night, the pain, and shame, and - come to think of it, this man's voice matched Castamir's voice that night almost perfectly. Legolas' eyes grew wide with astonished fear.

"But why do you care?" He asked; thrusting his arm forward, he slammed his fist into Legolas' head, forcefully knocking Legolas' head to the side and into the stone wall behind him. He laughed, as the elf looked back, his forehead decorated anew with a large red line. Quickly the two other men grabbed Legolas' arms, lifting them up, they locked his arms into a set of long unused chains that Legolas did not even know were there.

"Now, boys." The captain backed up, admiring their latest work. "What do you say; this one is lying, hmm? I think he needs a bit of encouragement. Cirth? Gilra? Bandir?" He asked each of his men by name.

"Aye, Carandir." Cirth answered, eyeing Legolas, he drew a small knife from his belt. "Encouragement." He said, using the small blade he cut through the toggles on Legolas' tunic, flaying his shirt open.

"Here." Gilra's only answer was to hand his captain a small lash. Carandir smiled at him, and then back at Legolas as the elf hardened his eyes. This was the last thing he prepared for upon his arrival in Gondor, but he would stay strong nonetheless. They would not see fear from him any longer, as he reapplied the age-old mask that had served him so many times in his life.

"Bandir?" The captain called again, turning back to find his third man missing. The torch was held now by a mount on the wall, and Bandir was nowhere to be seen.

"Find him." Carandir instructed. He knew that some of the young guards looked down upon what he was doing, but he would not have an alarm going up over so small a thing as this elf's pain. He had no love for elves, and did not understand how anyone could.

"Now... Elf. Legolas, is it? Hmm... Oddly familiar... but no matter. Tell me again... what were you doing on the seventh level, so late at night, fully armed, and unaccompanied?" He laughed, walking back towards his prisoner, who hung helplessly against the wall. Taking the lash in his hands, he held it up against the elf's cheek, his smile gleaming in a strange malice.

"I..." Legolas thought, for the first time, of how stupid the truth sounded in the face of the law. Nevertheless, the truth was what was required. "I am Aragorn's friend. We haven't seen each other since his coronation, I wished to pay him a visit. For the sake of old times, I thought I would surprise him, and wished to appear unannounced. My weapons were with me only because they are always with me, I did not mean anyone harm." He tried to explain calmly.

"Hmmm... you wish me believe that?" The captain laughed. "You'll have to do better then that, elf." He commented; arcing his arm out, he snapped his whip across Legolas' face and returned immediately with a return strike down across the elf's bare chest.

Caught completely off guard, Legolas' head was smashed to the side again, as the sharp tips of the lash cut into his cheek and made several red rips through his fine elven features; then they came down again, slicing the sensitive muscles of his chest. With both swipes, he let go an involuntary gasp of pain, begrudging every sound.

"I am a hard man, elf; I don't think you will like how I will deal with you. Tell me the truth, and I might go easy on you tonight. The king can deal with you in the morning." Carandir laughed; grabbing Legolas' shoulders, he turned the elf around so he faced the wall, the chains that held him specifically designed for such things. "Tell me the truth now." He commanded.

"I have!" Legolas shot back, within a moment he felt all nine prongs slam into his back for the first time in years. Ripping into Legolas' miraculously unscarred flesh, Carandir flogged his captive, the first five strokes one after the other, in a steady pattern, covering his whole back; he bared Legolas' shoulders and lower back, ripping easily through fabric and skin.

"I don't think you understand, elf. You give me proof that you are not an assassin, and I think about not hurting you." He laughed menacingly "Now... Who are you?" He asked, again receiving the same answer as before.

"I am Legola-" Legolas was cut off as the tips of the lash made contact with his back. His all too familiar rhythm of breathing returned to him naturally, allowing him to withstand the beating without so much as a gasp or moan. It was a tried method, all too well worn into the elf's life. Legolas' strength frustrated Carandir, spurring him to push harder; he laid into Legolas' back with full force, over and over again, until red blood flowed freely down his back. His shirt made to ribbons and his flesh not too much better, Legolas struggled to keep calm, closing his eyes, his world narrowed into a dark tunnel of pain, but he found in it a stronghold of his desire to keep strong. He would not allow this man to see weakness; it would not be the same with him as with his father. He would be strong, he would keep holding on. Aragorn knew nothing of this, he was sure, and when he found out, he would stop it. He panted for breath as the beating stopped for a moment, the door behind them grinding slowly open.

"No!" Legolas could hear the sound of a man being thrown to the ground. He looked over his shoulder to see Bandir, looking up in horror at his torn and bloodied back. "We have to tell the king!" He said, much quieter then before.

"Hah!" Carandir laughed. "I promise, he will like it better to sleep then have to deal with this whelp." He said, offhandedly slamming his whip into Legolas' back again. Caught off guard, the elf sucked in breath quickly, eliciting a small laugh from his captors.

"Your king..." Legolas spoke over his shoulder,"Would sooner hang all three of you then have you lay a hand on me." He said, not including the poor man who lay still on the ground with fear-filled eyes.

He found response in the body racking contact of a forceful lashing.

"You, elf, should hold your tongue. Lying little rat." Carandir told him. "But I grow bored of this game. I know something... A bit more persuasive... That we could use." He reached up and flipped a small toggle on the iron cuffs that held Legolas, causing both of them to release at once.

Legolas fell to the ground, his broken back making hard contact, he stifled a small scream as he quickly lifted his injuries off the ground. Bandir sat a small ways off, his eyes confused and scared; the man was horrified to see the lashings on Legolas' chest and face as well as his back. They had bound the man, destined to sit in the corner and merely watch, a cloth was stuffed roughly into his mouth, but his eyes did all the talking he needed.

The moment Legolas had pushed himself off the ground he was back down. The three men held his arms and legs, and before he knew what they were doing, they had begun to lift him off the ground.

"Let me GO!" He yelled, thrashing with both arms and legs, he struggled against them, but in the strange position of being carried, he had little success. They slammed him roughly onto a large wooden table, confirming Legolas' thoughts that they must really be in some kind of long forgotten torture chamber in the depths of his friend's city. He wondered what the ranger's reaction would be to knowledge of such a thing. Quickly, the three men locked his arms into two metal cuffs on the table above his head. His left leg was locked into place on the table, but for some reason his right was left free for a moment.

"Now. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You decide. You see this?" Carandir held up a strange metal contraption made of levers and strange, thick bars. "It fits like so." He continued, placing Legolas' lower leg inside the contraption, so two of the bars were on top of it, and one beneath. It was an odd, painful position, but not half as bad as what happened next. "And when I push this down." Carandir put slight pressure on the main lever of the odd machine. Forcefully, but slowly, the bars closed together, trapping his leg in between them; it felt as if any moment his bone would snap. Legolas clenched his jaw and eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to deal with the pain. Valar it hurt! He heard Carandir laugh as the man finally let up on his leg.

Legolas gasped for breath as the pressure was released. He could practically feel the metal bars cutting into his flesh, even though they, for the moment, left nothing but a large bruise.

"Yes..." Carandir said. "Now you tell me the truth, and I may not have to do this." He said, smiling at the knowledge that the elf had nothing else to offer, and that he would 'have' to do it in the end.

"I already have!" Legolas told them, at a loss for what these men wanted or would accept. He knew this was not an interrogation now, these men hated him, and were ready to show it.

"Fine, then." The captain said off handedly, suddenly applying more pressure to the machine that held Legolas' leg. The elf sucked in his breath quickly, closing his eyes again; his mouth opened, but he let no sound escape. As Carandir slowly increased the pressure on his leg, Legolas wondered when it did not snap as fast as a toothpick for all the pain it caused.

"That's it..." Carandir looked on in approval of the whole situation. He leaned closer to the elf, allowing his two friends to keep applying the pressure, ever so slowly increasing. "Now..." He smiled at the elf, leaning over, he moved his mouth until it almost touched Legolas' ear.

"_Scream for me..._" He whispered. Legolas' eyes shot open at the words, but he remained still, even in the immense pain. "_Cry and beg me to stop and maybe I won't make you suffer through this pain all night... maybe. If you tell me what I want._" The exact words of his father, so many years ago, came out of Carandir's mouth. Legolas could barely keep from crying out now, as the pain doubled every second he held silent.

_Be strong._ He told himself. _Do not let weakness take hold._ The lower metal bar dug into his leg now, its blunted metal still cutting through skin at this pressure. The point of tension was nearing. _You will not scream, you will not cry. You can take this. _He felt the pressure heighten until he was positive his leg would break in half in a moment. He braced himself. _ Do not scream. Do not-_

**_SNAP_**

He screamed.

"Yes!" Carandir cheered at the sound he had elicited from the elf's lips. The sickening noise of breaking bone was accompanied by a miserable shout of pain. "Take it off." He instructed the others. Removing the metal was a difficult task as well. It let up with a jerk, and Legolas cried out again in pain as the extreme pressure was reversed, allowing blood flow to his foot once more, as the lower metal bar was drawn away from the bloody wound it had caused to his skin and muscle.

"Now..." Carandir said joyfully. "Again."

Tears streamed down Legolas' face. The second leg had hurt even more then the first, and no matter how hard he tried, the men still saw his pain. He sucked in his breath as they removed the instrument once more.

"_I told you you'd cry,_" Carandir smiled, completing the strange likeness of his father; the words haunted Legolas, digging up the old unwanted memories of that horrid night. He had failed that night, and he had failed again.

That night. The pain was still all too fresh in his mind when he thought of it, no matter how long ago it had been, no matter how deep he had buried it. He had never felt such hot enduring pain as that which Castamir had inflicted upon him. He remembered the shame he felt, as he was forced to beg for his life. 'Please' his own voice echoed in his head. Choked with tears and edged with pain, it was the sound of utter despair; of being broken, giving up, of his strength failing him, his body betraying him, his own mouth revealing his utter weakness. He would not let it happen again, as long as he lived. He had withstood men, elves, orcs, and the Lord of the Nazgul, and he would do it again. Eru help him, he would do it again.


	3. Awake and Aware

Chapter Three: Awake And Aware

In the corner, Bandir's face was streaked with hot tears; he was being forced to watch as the men he once respected as senior officers brutally tortured an elf that, he was sure, was innocent. He fought with his restraints until his wrists bled, trying desperately to help Legolas. He did not know what the others held against the elves, but he respected them. This was one of the firstborn, and more importantly, this was a fellow being; one with feelings, thoughts, gifts, purpose. He had a name, a family, a home, a life. Bandir heard him moan softly as the men unlocked the chains that held him; pushing him off the table, the elf hit the floor hard. This was wrong. He looked over the bloody, beaten body of the elf before looking into his eyes. They held strength, defiance; somehow both old with wisdom and young with life. He wondered at the impassiveness in the elf's face, showing little pain, even after such grotesque treatment, and no fear no matter the threats. Tears and blood both stained elf's face, but hope was in his eyes.

"Now..." Carandir cut off the thoughts of both elf and man as he pondered what torture he could turn to subsequently. "What shall we do next?" He fetched the torch off the wall; coming to Legolas' side, he pulled the elf up into a standing position. He carried all of his weight on the way up, then he purposefully transferred it all onto Legolas' broken legs; he smiled as the elf fell to the ground, crying out in agony at the sudden change to his already tortured legs. "Ah... I forgot, I guess those need setting, hmm?" He knelt down, calling Cirth and Gilra over to him. "But we can't have you falling asleep..." Carandir added, digging out of one of the soldier's pack a small vial and cloth. Wetting the fabric, he tied it over Legolas' mouth and nose.

It was a smelling salt, basically. One whiff and anyone would be wide-awake. Legolas closed his eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed, and from experience, exactly what it would feel like. Cirth leaned over him and held him down as Gilra held his right leg still, and Carandir prepared to set it.

With a jerk, Legolas was sent into a world of pain that caused most people to pass out, and be glad to be oblivious to the aches. But the mixture that contaminated his breath kept him always in the land of the awake and aware, almost heightening his nerves to the distressing sensation. He cried out softly through the gag as the three men laughed, getting ready to move to the next leg.

Once again, Legolas' world spun around him in pain. He clamped his eye shut and held tight fists, trying desperately to hold his tongue. It worked this time, and he allowed no sound of pain or weakness for his captors to hear. His mind, that was once again kept alert by the drugs, was slipping into a more blurry state from the same fumes.

That done with, they removed the cloth from his face, and Legolas tried to sit still for a bit, to clear his mind. Looking up, he saw Bandir sitting in the corner: frozen in place, he watched in horror at the scene before him. Legolas felt sorry for the man. He knew what it was like to watch an innocent person get hurt like this, and since it was a senior officer doing it, he could only imagine what was going through the man's head.

Calling his attention back, Carandir drug Legolas back to the wall he had been chained to earlier. The elf's stomach flopped oddly inside him to see his own blood staining the ground.

"Now, elf, I truly hope you will tell me this time. I don't want to do this…" Carandir lied, grabbing Legolas; he forced the elf into a standing position, his striped back taking most of his weight painfully against the wall. Legolas grimaced at the pain, but his attention was captured as the man who held him raised a small blade to his throat. Looking down, he prayed that they would believe him this time.

"If you kill me, Aragorn will be more distraught then anyone else. I would not be all together surprised if you three died for it." He said, looking with honest eyes into those of Carandir.

But Carandir did not see the truth. He did not wish to see it; he ignored it. Laughing offhandedly, he put more pressure onto the elf's throat. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" he smiled. "Well, too bad…" He moved to strike the prince once and for all.

"NO!" Bandir jumped; grabbing his captain's arm, he pulled it down, forcing the knife into Legolas' shoulder as opposed to his neck. The elf cried out in pain, and Carandir's shout of rage was deafening.

At last, the young man had been able to work out of his bonds as the three others were distracted, and act on the elf's behalf.

"You!" Carandir stopped; seizing Bandir by the throat, he looked into his fear filled eyes as the man struggled, but succeeded, to show the same strength that Legolas had. Without a word, Carandir threw him to the ground, dropping his knife and stealing the lash back from Cirth.

Legolas dropped to the ground holding his shoulder and legs as Carandir caught Bandir. At least one of the soldiers knew the ways of his king and respected them. He looked up to see Carandir bring the lash down on a man that had once served him dutifully. Pain flashed over Bandir's face, and Legolas' stomach twisted at the sight.

"No!" Legolas yelled, trying to push himself toward the man who lay on the floor, receiving stroke after hard stroke of Carandir's wrath. He struggled not to cry out as the flesh was ripped from his back, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps; he lost the battle quickly and his vocal cords worked their will, entering shame into the man's world, already spinning in pain.

A hand caught Legolas before he could go forward, and the heavily wounded elf was soon caught in a scuffle with a fully armed man. Twisting out of his arms, he slammed the man's hand down, sending his small knife to the floor. With his bad leverage, it was a hard fight, but he was determined to get through.

Knocking the man to the floor, he pulled himself painfully over to Carandir, as the man continued to flog his soldier.

Practically jumping between them, Legolas caught the full force of a swing that was meant for Bandir across his face, ripping painfully into the sensitive flesh there. Bandir looked up to see the cause of his reprieve, his mouth falling open at what Legolas had done. He respected the elves, and respected justice, but he had not accepted that.

"Why you…" Carandir crashed the handle of his whip into the side of Legolas' head, unknowingly hitting him square in the pressure point specific to the elves, and instantly making his world go dark.

Jonath walked slowly down the halls as the sun played on the horizon, refusing to show her head, she painted the sky above a beautiful array of gold and pink. The soldier came to an old door he had thought long closed. It hung slightly ajar, although he was certain he had never seen it open before. It opened without noise, even though it was so old, and he walked slowly down the dark passageways beyond, holding his torch high. It was an odd, mostly empty series of tunnels, with doors at different intervals that caused the Captain of the First Guard's confusion only to rise.

His brow wrinkled as he arrived at another door. This one, unlike all the other wooden ones, was a large, dark, metal one. He stopped for a minute, thinking that he heard something from the other side. He looked down, seeing a faint light coming from under the door.

Someone was in there, and if he knew the city at all, they were not supposed to be in there. Placing his ear to the cold metal, he could swear he heard a half stifled shout of pain.

That was not a good sound. He prepared to enter the room, checking the door; it was, of course, locked.

"Who is in there?" He shouted, but gained no response. "Open up!" He yelled; slamming his body into the door in what he would have expected to be a useless effort, he felt the old door give a little under his weight. Realizing how old the door and its lock must be, he tried again. "Open up in there!" He slammed himself against the door again.

"My lord?" four young soldiers came up behind him, holding their own torches, they had most likely been drawn by the noise, and he now enlisted their help in opening the door.

THUD

"_Open up!" _

Carandir's head snapped up at the sound. They had been found. Somehow or another, some one had found them. Dropping his bloody lash, he grabbed the unconscious elf, pulling him up and over to the wall; he pressed himself, and the elf, against the wall behind the door, holding a drugged cloth to Legolas' mouth to keep him still and silent, as the elf slowly woke in his arms.

Cirth and Gilra stood dumbfounded for a moment too long, standing with Bandir, their beaten comrade, at their feet, as the door was at last forced open.

Torch light flooded into the room, and the two shielded their eyes. Bandir struggled to do the same, moaning softly.

Jonath's mouth dropped open in shock for a moment, taking in the scene before him. A young soldier lay, beaten and flogged, on the ground, and two other stood above him. The room's dark corners were filled with the strange shadows of contraptions that he did not even want to know what they were used for. He was not aware this city had such a chamber, but now he knew why it was such a long way down: To sound proof it. Any scream would go unheard in these walls.

"What is this?" He said, still in shock, as he knelt by the fallen man, lifting his head up. His men quickly took charge of the two others, holding their arms behind their backs.

"Legolas…" Bandir said quietly, his voice hoarse from his own tears and screams.

"Legola-" Jonath tried to place the name, before he even finished questioning it he remembered. The blonde elf his lord had been so close to last time they were together. Those two were trouble, and he doubted he would ever forget the elf.

"And Carandir… he…"

Bandir was cut off by a loud noise behind them, as Carandir dropped Legolas on the ground; turning tail, he ran down the passageway as fast as he could.

"Bring him to me." Jonath instructed quickly, and two of the guards ran off down the hallway after him.

Slowly, he moved over to Legolas, as the elf awoke slightly. Laying on his back, his many wounds made it obvious he had gone through a thorough lashing, and Jonath bit his lip as he turned the elf over, seeing the red stripes that decorated his face and chest.

"He is as a brother to the king." He said sadly, lifting accusing eyes to Cirth and Gilra as his men bound them. "Come, we must go to the king." He said. Standing up, he helped Bandir to his feet, the man having regained some of his strength, he insisted on saving what ever scraps of dignity he had left, walking on his own down the passageways.

Jonath knelt to help Legolas up, as the elf's consciousness returned. Carefully holding him about the chest, trying not to pressure the wounds, he hauled the elf to his feet.

"No, he…" Bandir did not have time to report of the elf's broken legs before it was too late. With a pained shout, the elf fell back to the ground. Jonath followed him down, his brow knotting; he looked to the elf's legs.

Sucking in breath at the sight, he saw the still bleeding wounds and swollenness, not knowing what these men had done, but knowing from the marks that it was intentional. These men disgusted him. "Come, help me…" Jonath called, leaving one guard to escort the two wrongdoers, who, now without their captain, were very submissive. By now, more soldiers had come into the small room to see the commotion, and Jonath took command of them quickly. "Go, fetch the King. Tell him that there is urgent business in the main hall." He told one young man, sending him running to do the task. Jonath and another man picked Legolas up by his arms, draping his left around Jonath's shoulder and his right around the other man's, they stood up slowly.

Legolas' breath came in painful, quick gasps, trying to deal with the pain. His mind was blurry from loss of blood, and the drugs he had inhaled while Carandir held him were tuning against him. As he stood up, his consciousness almost left him when all his blood flowed to his feet. He was having trouble making sense of everything now. Who were these men? What of the ones that had hurt him? Would these men hurt him? Where was Aragorn? His mind was fading as he was helped quickly down the halls.

"It's going to be alright..." Jonath tried to tell him, but Legolas could not hear. Keeping his eyes open was becoming an increasingly hard task, and soon so was staying aware and awake at all. As they reached the grand hall, Legolas' consciousness left him all-together.

"My Lord?" Aragorn's head servant Connyn said timidly, placing a hand on Aragorn's shoulder as the man slept. The king groaned quietly as he slowly forced his eyes open, questioning the other man's presence in his room. "There is some... Urgent business... Awaiting you in the main hall." the man answered his lord's raised eyebrow.

"Alright," Aragorn whispered, lifting himself off the bed as quietly and smoothly as possible, as not to wake Arwen. This kind of thing happened often, but usually not until _after_ he was awake. Sending Connyn off, he quietly splashed water on his face and pulled on a simple Gondorian vest over his light shirt, grabbing the small circlet that often stood in for his crown as he went out the door. He yawned, rubbing his bearded chin as he walked down the dimly lit halls, totally unprepared for what met him as he reached the grand hall.

Jonath and another soldier held his best friend in the world up by his arms, his head hanging down and his feet dragging, his long blond locks fell about his face, only partly covering up the bleeding wounds there. Scarlet stains striped his chest, and, although Aragorn could not see his back, he was sure it was stripped of all flesh.

His mind screamed. _Legolas!_ What had happened? Aragorn rushed forwards, a look of shock and horror on his face. Gently, he placed a hand under the elf's smooth chin, lifting his head up, he could see the many ugly cuts of a lash on his graceful cheek. But he did feel a pulse, that was good. Quickly looking the elf over, he turned his hardening eyes to Jonath.

"What happened here?" he asked, knowing that Jonath was not to blame; he wanted to know who was.

"We found him, my lord, it seems in the middle of an... interrogation. Captain Carandir and these two men had found him, and questioned him." Jonath told the king all he knew. "And young Bandir got in their way." He added, smiling slightly at the brave young man.

Aragorn's eyes followed Jonath's to Bandir, his mouth falling slightly open when he realized for the first time that Legolas was not the only one baring the marks of a lash.

"Come with me." He instructed them all, bending over to take Legolas from his men; he carried the elf gently, biting his lip when he saw the odd marks on his friend's legs. With one hand carefully about the elf's shoulders, and his knees on the other arm, he headed toward his private rooms.

"What will you do, my lord?" He heard Cirth ask timidly. Turning quickly back, the king made eye contact with the man. His gaze was not as hard as it could be, but the shame in Cirth's eyes was evident.

"What have _you_ done?" Aragorn asked calmly.

"Well we... interrogated, and..." The man was at a loss for words.

Aragorn smiled suddenly, looking down at the wounded elf in his arms. "Then I shall continue the interrogation." He said, gaining odd looks from Jonath and many of the other guards, who did not know him to be like this. "Jonath, fetch me my old pack, you'll find it in the chest by my bed." He instructed. "Connyn?" He turned to his head servant, who had followed him into the room. "Fetch me the things I will need." He looked over and winked at the man, judging that he knew his lord well enough to know what he meant.


	4. The Interrogation and the Plan

Chapter Four: The Interrogation and The Plan

Without another word, he turned back and headed into the main living room of his private halls, gently placing his friend down on a soft couch; he sat down on a small table that was pulled up next to it. Elrond or Arwen may have called it 'abusing the furniture' but he did not really care. Brushing the stray hairs from his friend's beaten face, he gently attempted to wake the prince, as the two men that had help put him in this condition, and their guards, filed in the room. They were all on edge about what the king would do. The guards had never expected Aragorn to hurt any man, much less an elf, for interrogational purposes, but that was the only type of interrogation they knew. Cirth and Gilra half wondered if the king was anything like their captain had said.

Smiling as his friend slowly regained consciousness, Aragorn was barely aware of Connyn coming back into the room; tapping him on the shoulder, he handed the requested item to his king, confusion written all over his face.

"Thank you..." Aragorn casually grabbed it from him over his shoulder, surprised not to feel the damp cloth he had expected. Surely, Connyn knew by now that he was a healer as well as a warrior. He brought the item in front of him, and was finally able to see what it was. A lash. The braided leather handle sprouted nine ugly leather straps, each tipped with a jagged piece of stone or metal. It was intended to rip flesh from bone; to inflict pain. It was intended for him to beat his captive; for him to flog his best friend. His hand quivered as the realization donned on him, memories flooding his mind of times such devices had ripped his own back. Pain laced through his mind at the thought he _had_ one of these.

Legolas regained consciousness slowly. _Oh please..._ His mind struggled to focus on anything before he opened his eyes. He hurt all over. He remembered being beaten. He remembered screaming. _Please let it be over..._ He remembered where he was, sort of. He was in Minas Tirith. He had wondered where Aragorn was, but now... Now he could almost hear the man's voice. The elf slowly peeled his eyes open; his vision was blurry, but he saw a man standing above him. What was that in his hands? His head hurt to focus. It was a lash. _No..._ He weakly put his arms up in front of his face, in vain hope of some sort of protection.

Aragorn, frozen, looking at the lash in his hands, was brought back to reality by a soft moan from the couch beside him. Legolas weakly lifted his arms over himself in a defensive pose. Dropping the lash to his feet without a second thought, he gently took hold of his friend's wrists, laying Legolas' hands back down, he spoke comforting words in elvish.

"It's alright, my friend, I'm here. No one will hurt you now." He smiled down at his friend, as the elf struggled to focus his eyes. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there... But I am now. Shh... You're alright."

Legolas' brow knotted as someone grabbed his wrists, forcing them back down. _No..._ He sadly prepared himself for another blow of a lash. In a maddening state of suspense for only a moment, Legolas was surprised when he heard soft elvish words float to his ears. He knew that voice. Opening his eyes, he forced them to focus on the man before him, smiling, as he finally knew that it was Aragorn. The man smiled fondly down at him, placing a kind hand on his cheek, he examined the nasty cuts he found there.

"Oh Legolas, what did they _do_ to you?" He asked, still in elvish.

Legolas laughed humorlessly, rolling his eyes. "What's it look like?"

"It looks..." Aragorn thought up a way to make the elf smile. "No worse then the normal, I guess." He smiled.

Legolas laughed softly. "True..." He sighed, "My legs hurt..." He hinted at what was so different this time then normal. Not that breaking a leg was not normal, but breaking it like he had was definitely not normal.

Aragon's brow knotted as he sat up, moving to examine the elf's legs. He sucked in his breath when he saw the bloody wound there; his hand hovering over his friend's leg, he locked questioning eyes on Legolas'. The elf's eyes were uncertain, but trusting. Slowly and gently, Aragorn lifted on of Legolas' legs in his hands to see what had happened. The elf grimaced in pain, but his trust in the ranger allowed him to remain still.

The moment Aragorn saw his friend's pained face he stopped what he was doing, placing his leg gently back down. He could tell it was broken, but he could also tell it had been set. For that he was glad, as he did not want Legolas to have to go through the pain of setting it just now. Moving back so he could talk to the elf again, he looked over his torso.

"This shirt..." He said, this time in the common tongue. "Well, what's left of it... I'm afraid it must leave." He said, both he and Legolas laughing slightly; Cirth and Gilra stood dumbfounded in the corner, finding that their commander had been completely wrong about their king.

Standing up, Aragorn helped Legolas to sit up and take the shirt off, sitting down next to him on the couch. "Now..." He said, getting up and sitting back down on the table, he laid the elf down so that he lay on his stomach. It put pressure on the welts on his chest, but there were far more welts on his back, and in comparison, this felt much better.

At that moment, Jonath walked in with his lord's pack. He stopped at the doorway in a bit of shock. The king stood above Legolas, the elf stripped to the waist, and his back was decorated with many fresh welts. A lash was at the king's feet.

"Jonath!" Aragorn called, walking over and taking his pack from the man. "Thank you..." He went back and sat down on the table again.

"My Lord?" Jonath called cautiously, worried about what he had found.

A simple "Hmm?" was the only reponse as the king searched through his old pack, pulling out many different herbs and vials, along with a small mixing bowl. Finally finding the bandages, he pulled them out before he stopped. "Oh! Jonath, where did Bandir go?" He asked.

"He..." Jonath struggled to make sense of the situation. "He is on his way to the houses of healing..." The man answered.

Aragorn nodded "I understand but… Could you bring him here?" He asked.

"Yes, My Lord, but..." Jonath motioned for one of the younger guards to fetch the man before continuing his earlier question timidly. "What are you doing?"

Aragorn smiled, "Interrogating." He answered, turning to Cirth and Gilra. "What all did he tell you?"

All the men in the room were caught off guard by the answer, save for Legolas, who smiled secretly, enjoying Aragorn's little game with his men. Cirth and Gilra's faces were priceless.

"Well..." They said, unsure where this was headed. "He said he was 'Legolas' and... and that he was a friend of yours... and that he was a prince or something..." They said, looking at each other for confirmation. Aragorn raised one of his eyebrows in amused questioning, but the men took it as accusation. "We...We're sorry, your majesty, but... Well we found him, he was on the seventh level, armed and alone, and... Carandir said he was lying and..." They looked at the ground, missing Aragorn's small smile.

"That's all you got out of him?" He laughed. "Oh I know how to get far more then that."

Once again, all the men in the room, especially Jonath, were caught totally off guard by the answer.

"My lord!" Jonath spoke up again. He knew this might cost him, or it would under Denethor, but he did not know his king to act like this, and he was worried.

"What?" Aragorn's tone grew slightly annoyed.

"What... What do you intend to do?" He asked.

"You'll see..." Aragorn smiled rather smugly, enjoying his game very much. "Now, you said the prince was armed? May I have his pack? Jonath, send one of your men to fetch it, if you will." He continued building the suspense, every moment adding to the guards confusion, and he and Legolas' smiles.

"Alright." Aragorn began his 'interrogation' as he measured several herbs and a few select liquids, mixing them into a fine salve. "What, again were you doing on the seventh level like you were?" He smiled, able to guess exactly what his friend had planned.

"Well, I... Wished to appear unannounced before the king." Legolas smiled up at his friend.

"Oh, yeah, that's all, hmm?" Aragorn questioned, laughing. "Nothing else?"

Legolas smiled smugly up at his friend "No..."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "I'm willing to bet you wished to surprise me, and let me tell you _elf_, you're showing up like you did surprised me more then anything you could have ever planned would have." He began to gently bandage up the elf's back. Soon he received the elf's pack from one of his men, digging through it, he found one of Legolas' extra shirts, and set it aside for when he was done.

As Aragorn bandaged his friend's back, his mind ventured to how many times he had done this before. Bandaging bleeding welts around broken ribs had become an all too normal thing for them. When he was done with the elf's back, he gently turned him over and wrapped up the welts crossing his chest, before cleaning the ones on his face. The guards were at ease by now, realizing that the king really did not mean any harm. The man moved next to the prince's legs.

"Oh, Legolas what have you done?" He asked quietly, looking over his bleeding, swollen calves.

Just then, Bandir walked in, his face still showing pain from his flogging, he tried to stay strong before the king. But he, just like Jonath before, was confused by his king. Coming in so that he could not see the bandages that wrapped around Legolas, all he saw was the elf's slightly pained expression as Aragorn gently looked over his leg, and the lash by his lord's feet.

"My Lord?" He spoke up timidly. "You called?"

"Bandir! Yes, I did. Come here." Aragorn smiled at the man, this time he did not even want to try to keep the man in suspense. The soldier walked quickly over, and Aragorn invited him to sit on the table next to him.

Now able to see the bandages, Bandir no longer questioned his lord, but was still timid when it came to how casual the king was being with him. As a soldier, many men only saw the military side of their king, but Bandir was getting an invitation to see the real King of Gondor.

"What happened here?" Aragorn asked Bandir man, who he held in honor, for his view of the story.

"Well... My Lord... We... Carandir, Cirth, Gilra, and I... We went up to switch shifts, and... We found him there." Bandir stuttered. "Carandir said... He said it would be better not to wake you, and that you would have us deal with it... Then he led us down to a room I've never been to, and he began to interrogate. I... I told him not to, but he would not listen. Then I ran out to go find you, but they..." He looked up to Cirth and Gilra, not wanting to accuse, but wanting to tell the truth. "They ran after me and brought me back. I was bound in a corner and they..." He bit his lip and looked to the ground, not wishing to recall what he had seen, but wishing to report to his king. "They broke his legs." He said, the pained scream of the elf still ringing in his ears, he remembered the look of strength he saw in his eyes. "And then... Carandir wanted to kill him and... And I stopp ed him. Then he turned to me and..." Bandir looked at his shoulder, inferring the red stains that criss-crossed his back, then back to Aragorn. He was amazed by the extreme sympathy he found there, matched with extreme gratitude, in the kind eyes of the king. "Then Legolas jumped in the way, right before Jonath found us." He finished.

Aragorn smiled, looking between Bandir and Legolas. "Jumped in the way, did you? That certainly rings a bell..." He said to the elf. "But come, Bandir, if you will remove your shirt and turn around..." He instructed. The man was quick about obeying, and was soon done with the task. "There we are... Now just relax." Aragorn told the man.

Bandir hunched over his knees slightly as Aragorn began to bandage his back. It was so strange, having the king of Gondor, the man he held in the highest honor, being so kind, loving, and personal to gently bandage his back. It was true what they said: the hands of the king are the hands of a healer. But having the king talk to him as if to an old friend, as a total equal in every way, that was what surprised him.

Aragorn smiled as he finished binding the last of the red welts that decorated Bandir's back, touching the man's shoulder in request that he turn around. "Now... A shirt..." Aragorn looked down at Bandir's that sat on the table beside them. The back was torn and stained in blood. "That won't do..." He said, taking it in his hands and inspecting it. "Here..." Aragorn began to undo the toggles on his own vest, taking it off and handing it to the soldier; he was left with his light shirt and was content.

"Th-thank you, Sir." Bandir was extremely surprised by the move, but slipped the vest on all the same.

"Now then... Legolas, those legs need tending to…" Aragorn started, turning back to the elf that lay resting on the couch. Legolas nodded, and Aragorn leaned over, looking at the wounds once more, trying not to touch them as much as possible. "Legolas… these need stitches…" Aragorn's tone was a bit hesitant, knowing what kind of response the report would receive.

Legolas closed his eyes and groaned softly, for a moment trying to hoist himself up to see the wound, he failed and let his head crash back to the couch.

"Come, I'll wrap them up now and see to the stitches in just a moment. It isn't too bad, and it's not bleeding too much…" Aragorn said, already beginning to wrap them. "First! I have some business to attend to." He smiled, finishing the bandages; he stood to his feet, bidding Bandir to stand as well.

"Bandir… How would you like a… promotion?" He said to the man, who he knew to be a lieutenant, as he placed his hand on the man's shoulder. The man's mouth dropped slightly open, and Aragorn could see he would like it, but did not know what to say. Nodding slowly, Bandir was speechless for a moment. "Good!" Aragorn told him "If you then wish it… I name you Bandir, son of Belen, Captain of the Second Guard." He smiled, giving the young man the role which Carandir had possessed, and inferring that the old captain be discharged.

Bandir's face showed his awe, his mouth open and his eyes amazed, he suddenly recalled who he was as a soldier of Gondor. "Yes, My lord! Thank you, Sir!" He said, excited. His father had always told him that it was love, not strength, that would make him a place in the world. It turned out he was right.

"Good." Aragorn said, "We shall make it official tomorrow. For now…" His face turned serious as he thought up what to do with Carandir. "No one in this room speaks of what happened today until I say so." He said, his voice taking all the command of a military leader, his men knew he was serious.

"Now then… Jonath, help me take the prince to my guestroom; Bandir, you can come if you would like." He said, turning back to Legolas, he picked the elf up in his arms the same way he had carried him in, smiling down at Legolas' scowl, knowing that if it were anything less then both of his legs being broken the elf would never allow him to carry him after 'so light an injury'. The four walked down the halls, leaving the rest of the men behind, after Aragorn gave the order that Cirth and Gilra were to be released, but summoned to the main hall as soon as he had time to judge them.

He laid Legolas gently down on the bed in the guestroom closest to his own room, as Jonath and Bandir stopped at the door, standing at the ready, they watched their lord dig through his pack for the supplies he needed. Jonath was not very sure why the man carried such medical supplies in a pack that he never wore, but his king did many such odd things.

"So..." Aragorn began "Would you like to be awake, or asleep this time?" he smirked, recalling the time when Legolas had opted not to take any drugs, knowing it was a choice the elf would not soon repeat.

"Asleep..." Legolas smiled, watching Aragorn remove the familiar ingredients to the much too familiar concoction he had taken so many times, along with what he needed to sow up the wounds. As the ranger mixed it up, he kept up a conversation. "What will you do about Carandir and those two?" He asked, inferring Cirth and Gilra.

"'Those two'?" The king responded, "Well, depending on how much they were deceived, they will most likely get too much, but some kind of punishment, yes. As for Carandir... I believe he is still somewhat loyal, but we will see...' He evaded a direct answer as he finished mixing, giving the drink to the elf.

Legolas sipped it slowly, raising an eyebrow at the man's words. Over the years, they had found the mixture to be stronger if not heated, but it did not help the taste, and he had learned to drink it slowly as not to send himself out to soon.

"I... Have an idea..." Aragorn smiled sheepishly, looking to Legolas, Bandir, and Jonath before he continued, knowing that no one in the room would approve at all. "I think Carandir is still somewhat loyal to me, just not elves. His men, I know, are loyal, but reject my love of elves. I think I have a way to make them see it." He turned to the two guards still at the door "That's why I need you two in here. You stand as my witnesses, so when my plan is complete Legolas cannot take the blame. I do this willingly and knowingly." He said, still working around what the plan was as he turned back to the elf on the bed, seeing in Legolas' eyes that his mind was fading out. "I am going to let him have what he wants." He said. Legolas' brow knotted, knowing that his friend could not be speaking of giving him back to Carandir. "Well, sort of... I want to see what he would do if he saw just how much I love the elves..." Legolas did not drop his raised eyebrow. Aragorn looked around nervously, looking back at the two guards and then to Legolas before continuing once more "I am going to give him myself. But make him think it's you." He said quietly. Legolas' eyes became serious. He locked them onto Aragorn's as the man above him continued, "If he thinks he's hurting you, and finds out that I care enough to stand in your place, maybe he will have a new outlook on the elves..." Aragorn pleaded his case before a tough crowd.

"Aragorn..." Legolas confronted strictly. "I can't let you do this."

"I know..." A smile crept on Aragorn's face. "Which is why you're drugged and I'm not." The smile grew to its fullness as Legolas' eyes turned to an irritated and almost angry state

"Aragorn! You can't do this!" He called.

"Can't?" Aragorn smiled.

Legolas' eyes turned more frustratingly desperate now. He fought the drug in his body, but he was slipping into darkness. The world spun slightly as he grabbed the front of Aragorn's shirt, pulling him down a few inches, he looked into his friend's eyes. "Please." He said. "I don't want to see you hurt on my behalf. I never have and I never will."

Aragorn's smile faded. He knew it would come to this, but he wanted his men to know how he felt, and this was truly the best way! Pulling up a chair beside the bed, he sat down next to Legolas, holding the elf's hand in his own, as his friend slowly fell maddeningly closer to sleep. "Legolas... I have to. It's the only way for them to see... Besides, it's not getting hurt on your behalf. It's getting hurt on their behalf." He laughed humorlessly and sighed. "If you only knew what I was thinking when they dragged you in in the state you were in. It could be much worse for them then I shall make it."

The answer did not comfort Legolas much, and he reeled at the thought of Castamir's son touching Aragorn as he had him. "Aragorn..." He pleaded again, his eyes saying more then he could.

"Fine... I'll let you help me make the list of what can and can't be done..." Aragorn pulled a small parchment and quill off the small side table by the bed. "Well, they can't kill me, that's a given."

"They can't hurt you either..." Legolas spoke his opinion.

"Well, that's a bit limiting, isn't it? Legolas, they have to. How about... no permanent damage, that's good..." Aragorn planned his own torture session, and how hurt he would come out.

Legolas' eyes challenged the first statement. He did not like this idea at all. Of course, there were other ways. Sometimes he did not understand the way his friend did things, but that had been true since the first day he met young Estel, when the man was only twenty years old. That time seemed so long ago now. Aragorn had taken far, far too many blows for him, and the elf did not want him to willingly but unneedingly take another. His mind chose to ignore the even greater number of blows he had taken for the ranger, which was the only number Aragorn's mind chose to recognize.

"What time should I be back by? If I leave tonight." Aragorn turned once again to his friend. He could see in the elf's eyes that the only reason he was not out cold was the amount of energy he was putting to stay awake and stop the ranger. He groaned softly at the suggestion that Aragorn 'leave' at all. "Tomorrow evening? Or the next morning..." Aragorn contemplated, his voice as calm as if he were planning a vacation, all three of the others in the room were worried and a bit shocked at his plan. "I'll say tomorrow night, or Arwen will be mad..." He said, smiling to himself.

"Arwen will be mad if you leave at all..." Legolas forced his sleepy lips to form the words, his tone tired and accusing.

"I know... Maybe you shouldn't tell her what happened... of course maybe you should... Maybe I should..." The old ranger contemplated. Legolas fell to sleep at last. The only thing that Aragorn could tell by was the look in his eyes, after spending so long with the elves; it was a skill he had picked up, to be able to tell if an elf was asleep or awake. A much-needed skill around Elladan and Elrohir. "Sleep well, mellon-nin." He whispered. "Don't worry about me. I'll be back by this time tomorrow."

Jonath and Bandir stood in silence as the shocking conversation was carried on. Their lord had invited them, so it was not eavesdropping, but they were both extremely uncomfortable with the situation. In silence, Aragorn stitched up his friend's wounds, tying two good splints on his legs, he then moved to dig trough the elf's pack. The extra shirt he had found earlier and an extra pair of pants were still there. He grabbed them and headed out the door, stopping to talk to the two guards there.

"You heard the plan..." It was more of a statement than a question.

"My... My lord..." Jonath stammered, not knowing what to do with such a king as he was stationed to guard, and worrying for his king and friend's wellbeing. Bandir stood still, shock and confusion written all over his face.

"Jonath, I want one of your men to accompany Carandir's company, make sure they follow the limits I set. Do not tell him who it is they are beating." He ordered. The captain nodded, but the worry in his eyes was not erased in the slightest. Aragorn turned to the other guard "Bandir..." He started. "I hope it's alright that your promotion may be set off by a day or so."

Without another word the king walked out the door.


	5. Fire

Aragorn heard the door open and several men come in as he sat against the far wall. Donning Legolas' shirt, pants, and boots, he had had Jonath bind his hands in front of him, and he covered his face in a dark cloth. It was a fabric that he and his brothers had played with years ago, one that, through one side, could be easily seen through, but through the other looked completely solid. He could still remember the day they first used such a dark hood as the one he wore now. It was perfect for tricks, and they liked it.

He smiled as he saw Carandir walk up and read the note he, as the king, had written about the situation. It spoke of the handling of 'the elf' and that which could and could not be done. As he and Legolas 'discussed', it said that no permanent damage was to be done, and that he should be back by the next morning, as that was the next time the king would be available. He explained that he could not meet them in person until the next morning because of some personal matters that needed attention. The soldiers, save for Jonath and a few of his men, never paid heed to such matters, and it was not an abnormal excuse for his absence. The note also told of the orders given to the guard from Jonath's company, and a note that made him laugh at the thought of the reaction.

_P.S. I will warn you that the elves are extremely fast healers._

The strictest orders on the notice were: _**Do with him whatever you will, but do not remove the hood from his head until I give the order. **_

"Hah." Carandir laughed, passing the note to the second highest-ranking officer in the room. "I was right... The king would rather us deal with this whelp. Who's with me, boys?" He grabbed the 'elf' by the arm, yanking the 'unsuspecting captive' to his feet. Cirith and Gilra had other duties for the day, and he knew they would have wished to join the company. But, orders were orders, and they were on shift. He did not know what had happened to Bandir, but he did not care. He was very surprised at this turn of events and the apparent change of heart of his king, but grateful. Obviously, the king just wanted the elf to have a bit of encouragement before he interrogated personally.

After the reading aloud of the notice, a majority of the men joined Carandir in his game, grabbing their captive by the arms, they laughed as Aragorn pretended to be confused by the situation. He was glad to see some of the men abandon the option of torture, walking away with disgusted faces. After this was all over, he would gather them all to make sure they knew the true nature of their king.

As Carandir studied him over, a look of strange shock began to register on his face, as he observed that none of what they had done the day before left any mark on the elf at all. He smiled a bit. If this was the way things worked, he would have fun 'not doing any permanent damage'.

They shoved him quickly down the halls, grabbing both of his arms, and Aragorn did his best to act as though he could not see where he was going. He tried to keep his eyes closed to help the act, until they came to a small wooden door that he had never noticed before. Going through it, he began to get a little frightened. He had never known this hallway existed. But it was a long one, spaced out with many empty rooms. He could tell they were going into the mountain as the air got slightly stuffier, and he looked up at the sound of a metal door scraping open.

He was shoved to the stone floor as the company filled the small room with weak torchlight, about ten men walking in. Carandir walked straight up to the 'elf' and landed a hard kick in his ribs. Aragorn doubled over, gripping his ribs as Carandir began to speak.

"Remember me?" He laughed. "Of course how could you forget?" He said, dropping the torch in his hands to the ground in a spot where red blood stained the stone floor. The men around him laughed at the reaction, as Aragorn reeled away, not from the man, but from the knowledge that it was Legolas' blood. "Last time we were here you were so confident of your 'friend'." Carandir mocked. "Looks like the king doesn't favour you that much after all." He aimed another kick at Aragorn's midsection, eliciting another groan from the ranger and another hearty laugh from those surrounding him. "We've been ordered that you need some more... encouragement... Before the king deals with you. So! What'll it be, boys? Or should we let our friend decide?" He asked, pinning the man down with a heavy foot on his chest. "It seems that your le gs have healed. I never knew how different you elves were. Despicable creatures." He said, dropping to where his knee rested on his captive's chest, he looked over the man's legs. "Of course that just gives me the option to do it all over again. Hah! Some gift. Your own body allows more pain. You know, I rather enjoyed hearing you scream. Perhaps you'll let these men hear it too... But how? Well, I guess I can't show you to let you decide, that stupid cloth, it-" He stopped. "Wait... First, a little test. Can you see?" he asked. Silently drawing his knife, he positioned himself over his captive.

Without a word he fell on Aragorn, his blade aimed at the man's heart.

"Ah!" Aragorn could not help the reaction; his hands shot up and grabbed his captain's wrist, stopping the blade inches from his chest.

"You can! Hah, the king must have made a mistake..." He said, reaching to pull the hood off his captive.

"No!" The man Jonath had stationed yelled, still holding the piece of parchment, he had read it over many times and removing that hood was definitely out of the question. As was stabbing the elf in the heart, but he had to let that pass.

Aragorn threw a swift upward punch, slamming his fist into the man above him and rolling away; the men gathered around caught him, swarming him with punches and kicks. Carandir yelled loudly, in a fit of rage, as he grabbed Aragorn by the front of his tunic, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the stone wall. Slamming a fist into the man's stomach as he leaned still on the wall, he ducked as Aragorn threw an awkward punch, his hands bound. Carandir laughed as he shoved his shoulder into the man's stomach, lifting him up on his shoulder and slamming him to the ground before Aragorn could slam his knee onto his captor's chest.

"Ohf!" Aragorn grunted, landing hard on his back, the wind was forced out of him as his head and body made painful contact with the floor. As the large group of men all joined in holding him down they seemed to rival each other in how many kicks and punches they could land on him as they held him down by his arms and legs. His hands still bound, they pulled his hands over his head and held them there, anchoring his feet as well. The position made it impossible to protect himself at all as he was repeatedly punched and kicked in the stomach, ribs, and head. He tried to control his breathing, but the hood on his head and the unexpected timing of the blows made it extremely difficult.

"Ah!" Suddenly a whip was involved in the situation. Cracking through the air it made painful contact with his back, tearing tunic and flesh. The next stroke came, this time he did not scream. A third blow, a fourth, Aragorn fell into the all too familiar breathing pattern he had learned from Legolas at last. Two more strokes. He wondered if they had not coated the tips in some chemical the way it burned. It seemed every time he forgot how bad it felt to undergo a flogging, as idiotic as it seemed, the pain shocked him with its intensity every time.

"Wait...," He heard Carandir' voice, as the seventh stroke fell. "I have an idea... Get him up, use those manacles." He ordered. Soon Aragorn was lifted from the ground and his wrists locked into the chains above his head.

"Now..." Carandir said. Aragorn struggled to look over his shoulder at what was to happen next that was so different from when he was on the floor. What he could not see was what Carandir coated all nine tips of the whip in, a substance that was common enough: oil.

Aragorn sucked in his breath as he prepared for the first strike. As the tips pressed his skin he could feel a strange, sticky liquid on his wounds, and he bit his lip waiting for the searing chemical burning to set in. It never came. The liquid was oddly cooling. He worried still about it as they continued to flog him, but as they went on the natural pain of the whip banished all other thoughts from his mind. He was tiring, his defenses weakening. He tried desperately not to scream, sweat beading across his forehead, He was getting claustrophobic in the dark hood, but he struggled on. Suddenly he noticed the temperature in the room, trying to find any distraction, it had been very cold when they first came in, and he doubted the sun would warm them at all, they were too far under the mountain, but it was warm now. He forced his eye open, concentrating once more on not screaming, and looked to his right, where a flickering light shone.

A small fire had been started near him, but he could not pay heed to it long. The whip ripped into his flesh again. He steeled his jaw and held his breath. Gasping in between strokes now, he closed his eyes and sucked in air. It had been a long while since he felt the sting of a whip, and the memory was not one worth repeating. He heard Carandir laugh as the 'elf' he was whipping slowly faltered. It would not be long now.

Aragorn fought for his honor, for fear they would do something worse if he screamed, and for the sake of his old time strength. It was odd, knowing how many times he had been flogged. It still wore on him. His breath came in gasps now, his head throbbing from blood loss and pain. He could not stand this any longer. It did not matter if they would hurt him worse, he could not defy them any more.

With the last swing of the whip he released a pained scream.

Legolas woke slowly. Where was he? In a few moments he recalled having come to Minas Tirith, and his next thought was of Aragorn. He tried to get up off the bed; sitting up and turning sideways, he stood up.

Immediately on the floor, he sucked in air, stifling a scream as pain shot up his legs, both of them refusing to hold him up. He had forgotten about that. Looking over, he could see a wheelchair sat by his bed, which he missed noticing before. He had never used a wheelchair before, as he had never broken both of his legs, but he had seen Estel learning to use one once, and he figured it could not be that bad. A simple wooden chair with the legs modified to be supported by two wooden wheels, it was on of the only ways to get around with both of his legs in the state they were in. Lifting himself up to his knees, he placed a hand on the bed for support and a hand on the chair to steady it. Luckily, whoever designed them saw fit to put in something to stabilize it when it was not being used. Slowly lifting himself up with his arms, he was almost there.

"Legolas?" A word came from the doorway. Legolas, startled, turned to see Arwen standing there. With the quick movement, he was soon back down on the floor, causing quite a crash on the way. "Oh, Legolas, here, let me help..." Arwen made her way over and helped steady him as he lifted himself into the chair. "I came to see if you had woken. I heard what happened and... Aragorn told me what he was going to do." She said, her face and voice sad.

"Estel...," Legolas murmured, trying to remember what rash thing the ranger had done this time. He had gone back to Carandir to show him how much he cared... Oh no. He did not want to think of how hurt his friend would be by the end. It was almost night now, the sun had set, but Aragorn had left some time that morning. "I'm going to get him out..." Legolas said. He pushed himself forward on the awkward chair, testing how to move before making his way to the door. "Jonath!" He called, seeing the man down the hall.

With a nod to the soldier he was talking to, the captain quickly made his way to Legolas' side. "Yes?" He asked, surprised to see the elf up and about.

"I need you to get Aragorn out. Tell them the king needs to see Legolas." He said, knowing that Carandir thought he was beating Legolas at the order of the king.

"I... But the king said..." Jonath stammered, not knowing what to say at the order. He respected Legolas' wishes, but he feared this was something he could not do.

"Jonath." Legolas locked his eyes onto those of the captain. "Please. Aragorn does foolish things some times, just like everyone else. His heart is right, but I fear he will kill himself because of it one day. Please get him out. I know you want it as much as I do." He said, as Arwen walked out of the room, immediately taking her role as queen.

"Jonath, what this elf says goes. I don't care what my husband said. We need him here now." She said, as Jonath at last nodded.

"Hah!" Carandir roared with laugher. "Impressive, elf. I didn't think you'd last that long. Here, how 'bout we let you down now..." He said, an odd smile decorating his face. With that, just as he had done the previous night, he flipped the small switch and released his captive, who fell to the ground in a bloody lump. Blood pooled around him on the floor, but Aragorn was too tired to be disgusted, and he could not sit still for long. Carandir grabbed him by the shoulders, flinging him towards the fire, which had grown considerably since he last saw it. He let go a short, panicked scream as he was tossed closer. As his back made contact with a burning piece of wood, a loud, agonized scream was drawn from his lips. Only then did he remember the mixture on his back, coating his flesh and the bleeding welts found there. It was never meant to burn him chemically, but literally. The flammable oil lit ablaze, along with his blood and oil socked tunic, and the flesh of his broken back.

"Ahhh!" A long, drawn out scream was elicited from his lips, as he rolled wildly over to where he could smother the agonizing flame. As he rolled out of the blaze, the fabric about his chest caught alight as well. Finally he was out, he tried to roll on the stone floor to smother the flames, gripping the collar of his shirt with bound hands, he tore it off as fast as he could, while rolling on his heavily injured back. He groaned and screamed as he frantically acted to extinguish the fire, but it was not working. The men surrounded him, kicking him back into the fire, the only thing he could be thankful for was that the strange fabric his hood was made of was resistant to the flames, and so his face was spared for now. But his back; ripped, stripped, and practically void of all skin, soaked with sticky oil was shoved into the bonfire.

He had never felt such pain as long as he could remember. He screamed, panicked, over and over again. He no longer cared what happened if he could just make it stop! A log from the fire impacted his stomach like a club, forcing him back, as the men began to kick him again. He lunged, trying to get back out of the blaze and onto the floor where he could find relief in the cool stone. He was thrown back in. He had to get out! Practically diving, he threw himself to the side, landing hard on his injured back, he rolled to a stop, finally lessening the flame. The oil was almost all spent by now. For that he was thankful. He desperately fought not to be dragged back to the blaze, until finally the oil was gone and the flame with it. The men caught him by his bound hands, dragging him back towards the blaze. No. He could not do this any more. He had to get away. He fought desperately against them, his feet trying to find any hold on the ground as they dragged him across the floor, his burnt and lacerated back taking the brunt of their efforts.

With a last yank he broke free, half crawling, half rolling over to the corner, he ran like an animal over to his hiding place in the dark. He had to regain his strength, but they were already back over with him. One bore a torch, a log from the fire, and held it up to him. He backed up in the corner, pressing himself against the wall to escape the heat; he closed his eyes, waiting for them to hit him. They laughed at the reaction, planning to do just what he thought they would, until they were interrupted.

"Carandir!" The guard from Jonath's company called, drawing all attention to himself and off of the 'elf' in the corner. "The king has changed his mind, he wishes to see the prisoner now, and cannot wait until the morn." He said, keeping away from the men, he could guess the reaction such news would garner.

Carandir was disappointed. He had looked forward to what he had planned next, but the king's orders were the king's orders, and he would follow them. He respected his king, although he did not think the man always handled things perfectly, he was still a great man. To let out his short-term anger, he picked up the prisoner, pinning him by his shoulders into the wall, he slammed his knee into the man's gut, letting him fall to the ground with a moan. As the man fell, he next forced his elbow down on the back of his skull, sending the ranger into a world of darkness.

**End of Chapter**


	6. Punishments and Friends

Legolas sat in his wheelchair at Aragorn's desk, the king's cape pulled around him with the dark hood over his head. He idly looked over the many papers there as he waited the true king's arrival. Jonath stood nearby, and Arwen by the window, looking out at the now star-filled sky.

"My lord." Carandir's voice came from behind him.

"Yes?" Legolas did not turn away from the papers in his hands.

"You requested to see the elf?" He said. He stood before his men, who carried their captive the same way they had before, held by his arms, his feet dragged and his head fell limply against his chest. The hood was still in place, and Aragorn was starting to waken underneath it. He moaned softly at being supported by his arms, putting pressure on his abused shoulders. His feet dragged behind him, still clad in Legolas' pants and boots. His shirt was gone, but his body was covered in burn marks, dirt, and blood. Arwen gaped quietly from the other side of the room as they entered, but tried not to show that she knew the man yet.

"No...," Legolas turned his chair around, finally being able to spin the wheeled chair properly. "I requested to see my friend." He reached forward and gently pulled the hood of Aragorn's head, tossing the hood back from his own.

"My lord!" Carandir gasped, along with the rest of the company that went with him, realising who he had beaten.

"Hm?" Aragorn groaned; lifting his head to look at Legolas, he did his best to smile, somehow finding the situation humorous, in some morbid way.

"Release him." Legolas ordered. Carandir's gaze hardened.

"You, elf, are in no position to give orders. You did this yourself! Placing the king falsely into our custody. Only to take his place in his halls." The man's voice was appalled.

"No..." Aragorn moaned softly "He did not. I did." He told them weakly.

"I said… Release him." Legolas insisted, pronouncing the words slowly.

Carandir did not trust him. "M-my Lord?" he asked the beaten man.

Aragorn nodded weakly and the men started to let him down. Quickly Legolas moved closer, taking his friend in his arms, he supported him for a moment, as Aragorn worked up the strength to stand. "Estel, what have they done to you?" he muttered in elvish.

Arwen was there in half an instant, and supported him as he got to his feet.

"Carandir." Aragorn addressed the man. As he stood, Jonath came behind him, placing on his head the small circlet he normally wore, identifying the beaten man once more as the king. "Today was a test. I saw your heart today, unmasked and in all its glory. You thought I was Legolas here, and with such knowledge, and without good reason, you beat me. Tortured, I should say, and for that I am ashamed. I knew your father. He became a good man, after dealing with Legolas and me. He changed. I hope you will too. That notice I wrote to you did not instruct you to do what you did, nor did the regulations regarding trespassers, even after dark. I did what I did today for Legolas, and for you. You should know, by now, that I would take Legolas' place for punishment under any circumstances, and that I care enough about my men to test them. Today I have done both - sadly, you failed the test. I should judge you for it, but... I have another idea. quote He said, his arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders, he stood strong as he spoke. His body was broken, burnt, and bleeding, his voice sore from his own screams, and his eyes red from his own tears, but he stood as tall as any king.

"Bandir!" He called, summoning the man into his halls. In a moment he was there. Bandir stopped at the door for a moment, looking on his king in shock, but continued in.

"Yes, my lord?" He asked.

"I need some help with my judgment today. What say you should be done with Carandir and his men?" He asked Bandir before turning to Carandir. "I want you to understand, though, whatever verdict we come to today, one thing has already been agreed. Bandir will take your place as the Second Captain." He said.

"Yes… My lord." Carandir looked at the ground.

Bandir, still donning his lord's tunic, thought about the situation. The penalty for unprovoked and uncalled for harming of a man, or in this case elf, could range anywhere from a simple fine to that of death. He had seen the state of both Aragorn and Legolas, and had felt Carandir's whip across his own shoulders, but somehow, in the presence of so kind but just a king, he could not bring himself to utter such a curse upon this man's head. Death would never do. He thought to more conservative means. The man could be flogged, or put to service, or simply demoted to lower office, or taken from the ranks of the army completely. The second one sounded good. Yes, Carandir needed to learn how to love. How to care for people. Serving in the community might be able to teach him that. He needed to learn to heal hurts, right wrongs, and restrain himself. He needed to learn to love. The houses of healing. It was perfect.

"My lord, if I may make a suggestion…," he started.

"Of course!" Aragorn placed a hand on his back.

"That Captain Carandir could do service, perhaps in the houses of healing." He said his idea aloud.

"A wonderful idea!" Aragorn agreed. He had not thought of that, but it was well thought of, and he liked it. "Good then. Carandir, I commission you to the houses of healing. For the next month, you shall report to the warden there. As for your men... You shall serve the same, in shifts, three at a time, let's say. Until your shift is over, I release you from your service as a soldier and a guard. When your term is over, you may come back and be reinstated. Go now. I have other business to attend to." He told them, and then turned to Bandir. "You, Bandir, have officially been promoted to the captain of the second guard. Legolas has the papers there on the desk; I made them up quick this morning." He said, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Fare thee well."

"Yes, sir." Bandir said, leaving to his new duties, of which he had been told by Jonath that day.

As all the men left, Legolas finally turned to his friend.

"You, ranger, are in trouble." He said.

"Me?" Aragorn said innocently

"Yes. What did they do to you? Do you wish me to have a heart attack?" Legolas yelled.

"Let me bring up that you were definitely the one that started this mess…" Aragorn said with a grin.

"Dear, Legolas is right. I too was shocked as you came in. Why do you allow these things to be done to you?" Arwen turned to the man she was helping to stand.

"Come, sit down…" Legolas said, rolling his chair over to a nearby couch. "Before you fall down." He added.

Aragorn smiled again as Arwen helped him over, sitting down with his head in her lap as Legolas tended his wounds from his wheelchair, and helping where she could. She too called Elrond a father, and was just as good at such things as Legolas, although it was possible Legolas had bound Aragorn's stripped back more than anyone in all of Arda and beyond.

As Legolas examined his friend's back he nodded slowly, wondering how on earth he was burned and injured so badly, yet still had enough strength to do all that he just had.

"By the Valar, ranger, what have you done?" He asked, his hand touching Aragorn's inflamed skin lightly. He sent for Aragorn's pack and was soon mixing up an ointment for the wounds, as Aragorn instructed him.

"Now add those, just a pinch…" He said, still lying on the couch.

"No! Not those, these work better…" Arwen said as Legolas picked up the sprig of green. She handed him a different one.

"No they don't, I've tried, these will help to cool it, those don't do as much…" Aragorn protested.

"Dear, I know what I'm doing!" Arwen insisted.

"Alright!" Legolas stopped them. "I'm adding both." If there was one thing that Aragorn and Arwen did not agree, it was normally about something Legolas did not understand: herbs. He knew basic mixtures, but could never go about tweaking and adding as they could, and it amused him to see the difference of their style. Growing up with the same man as father, yet at different times in their father's life resulted in an interesting difference, and seeing as Arwen had spent so much time with her grandmother, the gap widened even farther. But Legolas knew that nothing so small could ever get in-between them, and he thanked Eru that they agreed on so many other things. It was amusing, these two - they were so alike, yet so different. Yet wonderful together. Legolas laughed as he thought to himself, while mixing the last ingredients in with the oil.

"There…," He began to gently apply it to Aragorn's hot, burned skin. The man tightened under him, but made no other reaction. Arwen placed a comforting hand on his head as Legolas continued, treating first burns, then wounds, and then bandaging him up. "You've got a few broken ribs…" He stated.

"I know." Aragorn groaned softly as Legolas prodded another one. He knew exactly how many he had broken. He had felt every one of them.

After he was done with Aragorn's back, Legolas insisted on seeing to the burns on his chest as well, cleaning him up and seeing to his wounds. He had done this far too many times.

"Aragorn, what do you suppose will happen to Carandir? Will he change?" Legolas asked as he finished the task at hand, sitting back in the chair in which he sat. He hoped he could get out of the thing soon, but was willing to bet that Aragorn would have him in it for some time yet.

"I don't truly know, mellon-nin, but I hope so… Bandir did a good job today. He will make a good captain. I'm only sorry Carandir could not fill the role. But we will see if his heart changes. We will see." The events of the day were taking their toll on Aragorn, and it did not take much more conversation before he slowly fell to sleep. Arwen smiled down on him, taking the book she had been reading before this all began from the side table, she made herself comfortable, careful not to wake the man whose head still rested on her lap.

Legolas laughed lightly. Sleep was a grand idea. Rolling himself to the couch that sat parallel to Aragorn's, yet separate by the low table, he carefully pulled himself off his wheelchair and onto it.

"Good night, mellon nin, sleep well. A new day awaits us in the morning." He whispered in elvish, everyone in the room understanding perfectly.

Aragorn, asleep, sighed quietly. His barely audible and partially subconscious voice answered softly, "Good night, gwador-nin."

**End of Chapter**


End file.
